Strong opinions, weakly held

Why most of us do the opposite

We tend to etch our opinions in stone rather than in sand. Over time, a belief we formed — about people, about how the world works, about who deserves what — stops being an opinion and becomes part of our identity. And once it is part of who we are, we stop examining it. We defend it instead.

As I often put it: we've become prisoners to our own beliefs, and we defend them. We fight for these beliefs. The very act of someone questioning our view starts to feel like an attack on us personally — which makes honest dialogue almost impossible.

This is what confirmation bias does. We seek out information that proves us right, discount anything that doesn't, and surround ourselves with people who nod along. We aren't building a better understanding of the world; we're just reinforcing the walls of our own cell.

Etch your views — don't carve them in stone

Paul Saffo's insight is quietly radical: you don't have to abandon your views to be open. You are allowed your opinions — in fact, you should have them. But you don't carve them in stone; you etch them. The mark is clear, it's yours, but it can be revised.

That distinction matters in inclusion work. Too often, people assume that being open to challenge means having no position at all — that curiosity and conviction are opposites. They're not. You can stand for something and still be willing to learn that you had part of it wrong. In fact, the most effective advocates I've encountered are the ones who changed their minds at some point along the way. Their conviction is stronger for it, not weaker.

Go out believing you might be wrong

The practical shift is this: go out to the world believing you're wrong, and try to prove you're wrong. Not in a self-flagellating way — but as a genuine act of intellectual curiosity. Before you declare your view in a meeting, a conversation or a debate, ask yourself: what would it take to change my mind? If the answer is "nothing", that's not a sign of strength. It's a sign you've stopped thinking.

In inclusion terms, this is what it looks like to lean in rather than out. Leaning out is retreating into certainty, into the familiar, into "the way we've always done it". Leaning in is staying present with discomfort, asking the question you'd rather not ask, and sitting with the answer even when it's inconvenient.

Intent, impact and the courage to update

One of the places this shows up most sharply in inclusion work is the gap between intent and impact. Most people who cause harm don't intend to. They're operating from a belief system that made sense to them — perhaps always had — and they haven't yet encountered compelling enough evidence to revisit it. The question isn't whether they meant well. The question is what they do when the impact is pointed out to them.

Holding opinions weakly is what makes accountability possible. If I'm so invested in my good intentions that I can't hear what effect my actions had, I cannot repair the harm and I cannot grow. But if I go in already prepared to be wrong — already curious rather than defensive — then hearing difficult feedback becomes information rather than attack. I can say "thank you for telling me", mean it, and do something different next time.

• Relax the grip. Notice when you feel your jaw tighten around a belief. That's the moment to get curious, not combative.
• Ask before you tell. Seek out perspectives that differ from yours — genuinely, not to rebut them.
• Separate the belief from the identity. You are not your opinion. Updating a view is not a defeat; it's evidence you're still thinking.
• Be accountable without being paralysed. When you get it wrong, acknowledge it, make amends where possible, and move forward. That's what #PositivePeopleExperiences looks like in practice.

What this has to do with belonging

Belonging — real belonging, not just the performative kind — requires people to feel they can bring an honest, sometimes uncomfortable truth into a space and not be punished for it. That can only happen if the people in that space are holding their views weakly enough to actually hear it.

My mantra is Smile · Engage · Educate. Engaging means showing up to the conversation rather than the conclusion. It means being moved by what you encounter rather than armoured against it. Strong opinions, weakly held, is one of the most practical ways I know to do that — in a boardroom, in a classroom, or in any relationship that matters.

Read more about what it looks like to build those conditions in Building a Culture of Belonging and What Is Inclusive Leadership?, or explore this theme further on the Inclusion Bites podcast.

Take it further

This idea sits at the heart of The Inclusive Leader's Journey keynote and many of the conversations across the guides on this site. If you're ready to bring more of this thinking into your organisation — practically, honestly, and in a way that sticks — get in touch.